How to Run a Government by Michael Barber

A couple of months ago, I wrote a review of What is Government Good At? by Donald Savoie. In that book, Savoie explained the disconnect in government between the creation of policy and the implementation of policy.  Michael Barber's How to Run a Government is the perfect followup book, as it looks entirely at implementation. Anyone who has been working at the policy level in the public service would have heard and possibly been confused by the latest buzz word "deliverology." Barber, or more formally Sir Michael Barber, is one of the founders of this new approach to government. From 2001 to 2005, he was the first head of the Prime Minister's delivery unit in the UK. Since then the concept of deliverology has spread around the world, including to Dalton McGuinty's Ontario and Justin Trudeau's federal government.

At its essence, this is a "how to" book (as the title would indicate). Barber sets out the process of how to apply his ideas in a government organization.  He sets out his 57 rules of delivery, that range from Rule 7: "Consult without conceding on ambition (opposition is inevitable)" to Rule 44: "There is no substitute for sustained, disciplined political leadership" or my favourite Rule 33: "Government by routine beats government by spasm (it's not even close)." Throughout he illustrates his rules with examples from projects that he has worked on from all around the world, in both developed and developing nations.

Barber's idea is really rather simple--choose a small number of priorities, set targets, focus relentlessly on achieving those targets, and build in irreversibility.  It seems fairly obvious, but it is not how government often works.  Instead the tendency is to try to be all things to all people, claiming that everything is a priority, preparing endless reviews and reports, and failing to follow through on implementation.  Most helpfully, Barber explains the elements of government culture that will resist change and how to overcome them.

This is clearly a title that will appeal to the more wonkish reader, however, it is written in a clear accessible style and provides insights into how organizations function that crosses outside the narrow world of government and public service.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

Hunger by Roxane Gay

This is the book that everyone was talking about on my Twitter feed a few months ago.  Written by Roxane Gay, the acclaimed social critic and author of Bad Feminist, it is a excruciatingly honest personal memoir that looks at sex, gender, violence, body-image and healing.  Subtitled “A Memoir of (My) Body,” Hunger relates Gay’s struggles with her body, how society views her body, and her need to find a way to heal and love her “unruly body and unruly appetites.” Superficially the problem with her body is its size; at her heaviest Gay weighed 577 pounds at six feet, three inches. But don’t expect a predictable narrative of weight-loss and triumph, instead she offers a sophisticated critique of how women’s bodies are defined in our society, how they are weighed and judged and valued, and how they are ignored and mocked.  She says about writing this memoir, “I’ve been forced to look at my guiltiest secrets. I’ve cut myself wide open. I am exposed. That is not comfortable. That is not easy.” It is also not comfortable or easy for the reader.  We are not accustomed to confronting such raw, unfiltered intimacy.  And for me, as a woman who has been fat, and thin, and then fat again, I am shocked to see so many of my own guiltiest secrets articulated, shared and rendered slightly less powerful or shameful.

At the heart of Gay’s story is a terrifying incident that happened when she was twelve years old. She was lured to an isolated cabin by a boy she liked and was raped by him and several of his friends.  Be warned, her telling of this incident is graphic and horrifying.  Her life can be clearly bisected into the before and after of that traumatic assault, and it was after this event she started to gain weight.  Throughout the memoir she circles back to what happened, her response to it, and how it altered her relationship with the world and her own body.

Much of the memoir relates the day to day humiliations of living “in a world where the open hatred of fat people is vigorously tolerated and encouraged.”  The humiliations come from the cruel and vindictive people who attack her regularly on social media; from those who at least try to appear to be well-meaning (“People are quick to offer you statistics and information about the dangers of obesity, as if you are not only fat but also incredibly stupid…”); but some of the worst humiliations come from simply living in a world not designed to accommodate your body. She has a whole chapter on the dangers of chairs: the ones that may collapse under her weight, the ones with narrow unforgiving armrests that bruise her, and the ones she can never expect to fit into.

There is definitely a therapeutic element to her memoir, she herself says “Writing this book is a confession.” But overall, it feels more like an exorcism; a violent attempt to expose and banish the demons that have been tormenting her since that day in the woods when she was twelve years old. And there is also a tone of vindication, an insistence that her body deserves love and compassion, and that eventually we cannot continue “to delude ourselves that our bodies [are] our biggest problem.”

I am hesitant to recommend this book, because it is so raw. Yet, Hunger is also a source of liberation for women who must constantly overcome their own "unruly body and unruly appetites.” And let’s face it, isn’t that all of us.  For what is a woman’s body if not, by definition, unruly, and in constant need of sculpting, reducing, enlarging, plucking, shaving, being made up, to become in the end both hidden away and publicly displayed.  And a woman’s unruly appetites are even worse, driving humankind into a vortex of anxiety, fear and sin since the Garden of Eden.  But if you dare, read Hunger, and experience a whole new way to look at the world from inside another body.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

Grief is the Thing with Feathers by Max Porter

This is an odd little book.  I was attracted to it because of its title. After my sister died, I spent the first year reading books about grief: mostly memoirs, but also books on the psychology and philosophy of loss and the rituals of grieving.  So like a crow that spots some bright shiny object, I wanted this book.  And as today is the anniversary of my sister's death, it seems appropriate to dip back into works on grief.

Its title page describes it as a novel, and for once I actually appreciate that clue. I would more likely think of it as a prose poem or a traditional trickster tale or even a meditation on a dream about death. I could even imagine it being performed as a play. It challenges our traditional understanding of genre as well as our understanding of grief.

The story is told in three voices: the dad, the crow and the boys (although at times each boy attains his own individual voice). The father's wife has died suddenly, and he must deal with his own bereavement, single parenthood and meeting his publisher's deadline for his academic study on Ted Hughes' Crow. Meanwhile the two brothers are left, in many ways, on their own to deal with their bewilderment and grief, sometimes acting out their pain with the unique savagery of angry children. Amid this chaos arrives Crow: mythic, primal, trickstering, threatening, protecting, and meddling.

The story takes us from shortly after the wife's death and far into the future when the boys are grown and can reflect back on the years of bereavement and can claim "...something more or less healthy happened. We miss our Mum, we love our Dad, we wave at crows.  It's not that weird." Along the way there is humour, violence, myths to unfold, dark visceral moments, and much earthy Crow-iness.

I am at a loss on how to rate this book.  It was not to my taste, but I recognize the beauty of its language, the brief heart-breaking insights into human nature, and its ultimately reassuring message on our capacity to heal.

Three smileys out of five. 😀😀😀

The Only Child by Andrew Pyper

I am not a fan of horror fiction, except for an extended flirtation with Stephen King when I was in high school.  I do, however, give a pass to Andrew Pyper, because his work usually references literature and he is very skilled at dancing that fine line that leaves me wondering if there are in fact supernatural events happening or we have a highly unreliable narrator. As Pyper wrote in one of his earlier novels, The Killing Circle, "After all, what is sanity other than guarding the border between the fiction and non-fiction sections?" With Pyper, you can never be entirely sure which section of the bookstore you are visiting.

The Only Child opens with the protagonist, Lily Dominick, revealing that when she was six years old her mother was killed by a bear when they were living in a remote cabin in Alaska.  Lily mysteriously escaped, but carries with her troubling memories that do not match the official version of events. Now grown-up and a forensic psychiatrist, Lily understands how unreliable a child's memory of traumatic events may be, but is still unable to shake off the belief that her mother was killed not by a bear, but by a monster; and that Lily was rescued by a magical white horse.

She is the assistant director at a maximum security forensic psychology institute, and it is her job to assess the mental state of violent criminals. One morning she is presented with Michael, a patient who claims he committed a random and unusual act of violence just to meet Lily. He tells her that he is over 200 years old, he is not human, and he knew her mother and can tell her the secrets of her own past. In spite of her training and scepticism, Lily finds herself swept along in a series of increasingly dangerous and violent situations, as she pursues and is pursued by this mysterious creature, who seems more monster than man.

There is an element of international espionage to the tale as Lily soon encounters dangerous assassins who are also trying to find Michael, and the characters travel from New York, to various European cities, and the vast frigid wilderness of Alaska.  The tale also travels through time exploring events over the past two centuries and visiting some of the earliest horror writers in English literature: Mary Shelley, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Bram Stoker. Yet in spite of the diverse range of locations, characters, and timelines, Pyper manages to maintain the flow of the story jumping effortlessly through time and space.

It is a novel I read quickly in part to fully appreciate the flurry of motion and incident, but also to prevent myself from dwelling too long on the more horrific incidents. As I said, it is not my preferred genre.  However, if it is your genre or you just want to try something new, I would recommend the Only Child.  Pyper tells his tale with skill, maintaining the suspense and tension between the "fiction and non-fiction sections," while adding frequent plot twists. It is a true page-turner.

Three and a half smileys out of five. 😀😀😀😶

The Reason You Walk by Wab Kinew

I first became aware of Wab Kinew when I saw the CBC TV series, The Eighth Fire.  As the host of this series on the contemporary issues of Indigenous people in Canada, Kinew brought a depth of personal experience, an urban perspective and enormous openness and charisma to our national discussion on reconciliation. The same qualities infuse his memoir, The Reason You Walk.

This memoir is rich and thoughtful.  It is not only a reflection on Kinew's life, but also explores his relationship with his father, a residential school survivor.  Much of the memoir focuses on his father's last year of life, when it was clear that he was terminally ill, and Kinew took time off work to be with his dying father.  Throughout Kinew tells the stories that brought him, his father and his family to this point.  Each vignette is vividly told, giving the reader the impression of witnessing these moments, and each ties into the broader themes of growth, understanding, family and reconciliation.

Kinew does not avoid the difficult issues, such as the impact of residential schools, the suicide crisis among young indigenous people, and conflicts over land use, but he brings to the discussion a vision of a future where we can move beyond the harms of the past, and build a better world, for both Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians.  Now, when reconciliation is arguably the biggest challenge our nation faces, he brings a calm voice, a deep understanding of both Indigenous and settler culture, and an expansiveness of spirit to the debate.

As Kinew describes it: "Reconciliation is action. Reconciliation is not something realized on a grand level, something that happens when a prime minister and a national chief shake hands.  It takes place at a much more individual level. Reconciliation is realized when two people come together and understand that what they share unites them and that what is different about them needs to be respected."

I would recommend this book to anyone who is seeking a deeper understanding of the need for reconciliation and anyone who wishes to understand the importance of culture and ceremony in achieving it.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

Norwegian by Night by Derek B. Miller

Norwegian by Night was recommended to me by a friend who rarely gets it wrong.  "It's a murder mystery," she told me, "but really it isn't." I was sufficiently intrigued to find out for myself. Yes, there is a murder, a clever female police officer, and violent drug dealing gangs, but the novel is not really about the murder. Instead it is an extended exploration on remembrance, regret and redemption.

Sheldon Horowitz is an 82 year old American, who has recently moved to Norway to live with his granddaughter after his wife passes away.  He is a bit of a curmudgeon in the tradition of too many elderly male characters in contemporary fiction. His family thinks he is suffering from dementia, but he strenuously disagrees, instead he believes "...his memories were just becoming more vivid with age. Time was folding in a new way.  Without a future, the mind turned back in on itself. That's not dementia. One might even say it's the only rational response to the inevitable." Horowitz is a veteran of the Korean War, and he might have been a highly decorated sniper or possibly a filing clerk, but either way, he still believes Korean agents are out to kill him.  Amid all this uncertainty, he suddenly finds himself rescuing a young boy from a violent domestic situation and going into hiding with the child in an unfamiliar country.

When I read the first few chapters, it reminded me of A Man Called Ove: a grumpy older man, in a Nordic country, finds himself reluctantly spending time with a child who forces him to confront his past and reevaluate his life. In both cases, the author uses witty and ironic prose and the protagonists find themselves in absurd situations. But that is where the similarities end. Norwegian by Night is a much darker tome. The ghosts that haunt Sheldon are many, and he must not only grapple with his own past and guilt but also with his rage at God. Did I mention he's Jewish? As his granddaughter tries to explain it to the Norwegian policewoman, "...he's Jewish. He's not your normal whacko. His name is Sheldon Horowitz. Can't you hear it? It's like his whole history is built right into his name."

Because the child does not speak English and is rendered mute by trauma, Sheldon is given ample room to deliver long philosophical monologues. As the author puts it "Sheldon continues speaking for both of them. Silence is not a practiced skill of his."

Sheldon's ruminations stretch far and wide, but if a single theme merges, it is the moral justifications for war and the impact combat has on soldiers. Indeed war overshadows everything from his anger at being too young to fight in World War II and avenge the Holocaust to his experiences in Korea and what he imagines his own son's experiences were in Vietnam. He argues morality, reflects on the Bible and seeks out eternal truths. He plunges deeply into the meaning of love, sacrifice, revenge and redemption. Yet throughout it all the author maintains an urgent pace, as the police, Sheldon's family, and the murderous criminals all race to be the first to find Sheldon and the boy.

If you pick this up expecting a light Norwegian murder mystery, you may be disappointed. But if you are like me and are attracted to the mystery genre because, at its best, it illuminates the eternal puzzle of good and evil, Norwegian by Night is highly recommended.

Four smileys out of five: 😀😀😀😀

Should We Change How We Vote? Edited by Andrew Potter, Daniel Weinstock, and Peter Loewen

I first became convinced that our electoral system was fatally flawed on the morning of October 26, 1993. I woke up post-election to discover that the Bloc Québécois was the official opposition even though it had less than 14% of the popular vote and had only run candidates in a single province, while the Progressive Conservative Party was reduced to two elected MPs in spite of winning over 16% of the popular vote. I decided, then and there, that a system that so distorts the public will and rewards parties focused on narrow regional interests above parties that seek a national mandate was not very "democratic" as I envisioned democracy at the time.  

That belief has been reinforced by living in PEI, where there are the two dominant parties and we often end up with a mega-majority in the legislature based on a very small variation in the popular vote, and where district races can be so close that we currently have a cabinet minister who was elected by coin-toss.  Clearly other Islanders share my concerns, as the majority who voted in a recent plebiscite favoured a proportional representative system.  The current government (which was elected with only 40.83% of the popular vote) has chosen not to honour the plebiscite.

I should also disclose that I work for the Green Party legislative office in PEI, and the party's position is in favour of eliminating first-past-the-post. Therefore I must preface my review with the following disclaimer: I have a long established position on this question and my ability to honourably continue my current employment is somewhat contingent on me maintaining that position.  But enough about me....

Should We Change How We Vote? is a collection of papers from two conferences held in the fall of 2016: one in Ottawa on October 28 and the other in Montreal on November 1. The dates are important as the papers were written when Justin Trudeau had begun consultations on his intention to act on his election promise that the 2015 election would be the last one to be run on first-past-the-post.  Since then, Trudeau has indicated that his government won't be changing the electoral system, so the urgency of the discussion has dissipated. 

Although written almost entirely by academics, the articles are, for the most part, quite accessible to a non-academic reader.  Yet, you still occasionally find yourself slogging through sentences like this: "The kind of epistemically fine-tuned vote that systems of ranked ballots allow must of course be calibrated to the epistemic carrying capacity of the electorate." I'm not entirely sure what is being said, but I feel vaguely insulted as a voter.

The volume covers a range of topics from an overview of past electoral reform attempts in Canada to the various values that must be considered in any decision, how change would impact the function and motivation of parties, the potential impact on underrepresented groups such as women, Indigenous people and visible minorities, and what is a legitimate process to implement change.

Each contributor brings his or her own perspective to the discussion, but it seemed that there was an overall preference for maintaining the status quo.  I wonder if this preference was in anyway reinforced by the fact that the federal government, at the time, seemed committed to change.  In some of the essays one could almost sense anxiety around the possibility of Canada moving to a more proportional system. Many of the contributors seemed to take the position that the problems with our current system are simply not severe enough to risk the potential unintended consequences of change.

I found some of the arguments less than inspirational and even somewhat circular.  For example, in the paper "Voter Choice and Accountability," Elizabeth Goodyear-Grant argues that the "mandate view on representation suggests that ballots cast for parties provide affirmation of their electoral platform as legislative blueprints for governing," (p.58) and the necessary post-election coalition bargaining makes it difficult for voters to know in advance which elements of a platform might be up for barter. Although this is quite true, she fails to provide an argument on why two or more parties representing the majority of the voters working together to support policy they can both agree on has a less legitimate mandate than a single party with under 40% of the popular vote imposing its platform on the majority who did not vote for it. For example I do not believe, based on his 39.47% popular vote, Trudeau had a clear mandate to impose a new electoral system. However, if he worked with and was supported by other parties such as the NDP, Greens etc,  who combined would represent the majority of voters that carries greater legitimacy.

I also discovered to my surprise that many contributors cited features of our current system as advantages, that I actually consider disadvantages.  For example, one of the primary advantages cited for first-past-the-post is its stability and efficiency.  Admittedly minority and coalition governments can be somewhat unruly, but I believe that true democracy should be a little a messy.  It should involve vigorous debate, collaboration and compromise. With the current granting of false-majorities to parties that obtain approximately 40% of the vote, we have created a system where important decisions are being made at the Cabinet table in secrecy, facile speaking points are then drafted to justify the decision and government ministers avoid any substantive debate on the issue because they know in the end their legislative majority will rule the day.  Within a less "stable" system, governing parties would need to work more closely with other parties in developing policies, justify their decisions with rational debate and evidence, and show greater respect and decorum towards opposing members. What is the value of stability if it comes at the price of omnibus bills, time allocations and other strong-arm tactics used to limit debate?

Although I did not agree with all the opinions expressed, every single paper provided excellent insights into the question and greatly deepened my understanding of the issues and the arguments to made on both sides. Although clearly not recommended for all, I believe the policy wonks in my circle would find this an invaluable resource, especially here on PEI where we are still at an impasse on how to move forward from last year's plebiscite.

Three and a half smileys out of five. 😀😀😀😶